The moon hung heavy above the Bloodmoon territory, its glow bathing the forest in an eerie hue. A hush had fallen over the land, a stillness that felt unnatural—even for wolves. Draven stood silently at the edge of the high hill, overlooking his kingdom as if expecting it to betray him. The wind carried a chill tonight, not of temperature, but of omen.
Somewhere far below, Eryx moved like a shadow. He prowled the settlement with practiced quiet, his boots crunching softly over dead leaves and packed dirt. The pack torchlights flickered like dying stars behind him.
He moved from house to house—warriors, hunters, civilians—keeping count, asking questions, gathering whispers. He jotted numbers down on a worn leather-bound notebook, his sharp eyes flicking between faces, cross-referencing names, questioning quietly when someone seemed out of place—or worse, missing.
By the time he reached the southern living quarters, his skin had begun to prickle. The tension in the air thickened like fog. Wolves glanced over shoulders too often, lowered their voices when speaking. Mothers clutched their children. He felt eyes watching him, though none were there.
He approached a middle-aged woman named Thalia who was sitting by a dying fire, arms wrapped tightly around herself.
"Evening," Eryx said gently.
She nodded, eyes hollow. "You’re the Alpha’s Gamma. I figured you’d come."
"You’ve seen something?"
Thalia nodded. "My cousin, Bran… he went out weeks ago. Said he was going to visit the southern border to check traps. Never came back. I went looking. You know what I found? Not blood. Not a scent trail. Just his boots. Like he stepped out of them and disappeared."
Eryx felt the cold seep deeper into his spine.
"Was he acting strange?"
Her eyes flicked up to him, haunted. "He kept muttering about the woods. That there was a voice calling him. Said it knew his name. Said it wanted to show him something."
A chill ran down Eryx’s spine.
By the time Eryx returned to the main pack house, he had spoken to over thirty pack members. Seven more were reported missing. No scent trails. No signs of struggle. Some had vanished from their beds. Others from their patrols. In total? Almost a hundred pack members had simply disappeared over the last few weeks—scattered enough that no one had noticed the pattern until now.
And the worst part? The woods seemed to be swallowing them.
He sprinted up the watchtower stairs, where Draven stood motionless against the moonlight.
"Alpha," Eryx said, breathless, face pale. "We have a problem."
Draven turned, eyes sharp. "How many?"
Eryx hesitated. "Almost a hundred. Maybe more. It’s not just soldiers. Civilians. Scouts. Even pups old enough to shift. Gone."
Draven's jaw clenched. "Gone how?"
Eryx stepped closer, lowering his voice. "I found three who saw something. One said their son was seen walking into the woods. Eyes pitch black. Talking to someone who wasn’t there."
Draven froze. "Black eyes?"
"Like ink. And he was smiling. Said the trees were whispering to him."
***\[FLASHBACK\]***
Eryx had spoken to Rye’s sister earlier that day, near the southern woodline. She’d looked sleepless, trembling as she held a charm made of carved bone.
"He was never right after the full moon," she’d whispered. "Started walking at night. Mumbling. Talking to the darkness like it talked back. Said there was a red haired woman in the woods with violet eyes and bleeding hands. Said she told him things."
Eryx had pressed for more, but she had simply broken down in tears.
***\[FLASHBACK ENDS\]***
Draven's brows furrowed, his mind spinning with Azrael’s words from before. About black magic. About manipulation.
Eryx’s face was grim. "What's going on, Alpha?”
Draven stared into the forest, his senses flaring. The shadows seemed to shift.
"Double the patrols. No one walks alone. Not even the children. Keep eyes on the woods. And Eryx…"
"Yes, Alpha?"
Draven turned slowly. "Don’t speak of this beyond us. Not yet. If panic spreads, we’re already lost."
Eryx gave a short nod. "Understood."
As Eryx descended the stairs, his breath came fast, heart pounding. He couldn’t shake the words of Thalia’s cousin from earlier:
***“The trees have eyes now. And they're hungry.”***
—
The chamber of the High Priestess was lit only by moonlight filtering through the tall, arched windows, casting silver-blue patterns across the black marble floors. The heavy silence within the sacred room was broken only by the crackling of distant torches lining the corridor beyond the door. Lilith sat cross-legged in a circle of chalk runes, her crimson robes fanning out around her like blood spilled across obsidian.
She opened her eyes slowly, her irises glowing faintly. Her lips moved in a soft murmur, calling upon an ancient tether between her soul and the one she trusted most. A moment later, the wind inside the chamber shifted unnaturally, sweeping into a whirlwind at the far end. Then, as if summoned from the breeze itself, Arianna stepped forth.
Arianna, the closest and most loyal of Lilith’s acolytes, had a breathtaking presence—long red hair that shimmered like flame, skin like porcelain, and sharp violet eyes that mirrored the magic coursing through her blood. Her lips curled into a warm smile as she bowed respectfully before Lilith.
“You summoned me, High Priestess?” she asked, her voice like silk draped in shadows.
Lilith stood, her expression hard and unreadable. “I did.”
Arianna tilted her head slightly, sensing tension. “What troubles you?”
“There’s black magic among us,” Lilith said bluntly.
Arianna blinked, momentarily stunned. “That’s impossible. The witches know the punishment for practicing Black Magic. It's outlawed.”
Lilith’s eyes narrowed. “It’s not only possible—it’s already happened.” She stepped forward, reaching behind her into a hidden compartment beneath her altar. She withdrew a small idol—twisted, jagged, and carved from obsidian, its surface pulsing faintly with a red glow.
Arianna stared. “That’s…”
“The Idol of Revelation,” Lilith confirmed. “Once awakened, it reveals the corruption of black magic. Black magic does not come without cost, Arianna. It seeps into the soul, corrodes the essence of the wielder. This idol will reveal them.”
Arianna’s brows furrowed. “How did you find out someone was using black magic?”
Lilith’s expression turned grim. “Azrael. She uncovered evidence from both sides—Lycans and Vampires—that someone is manipulating our races using dark forces. Vampires and Lycans slaughtered each other on the same night… and both had pitch-black eyes. Even the body of a vampire that was recovered oozed black energy. It wasn’t just bloodlust—it’s corruption.”
Arianna’s lips parted slightly. “So someone is pushing us into war.”
Lilith nodded. “Yes. And they’re using black magic to do it.”
“And you plan to find them with a ritual?” Arianna asked.
“I’ve already sent word to all covens,” Lilith said. “They’ll gather in the sacred grove two nights from now. I’ve told them nothing. If they knew, they’d find ways to hide. But with this—” she lifted the idol slightly, “—there will be no hiding.”
“What will you do when you find them?”
Lilith’s voice turned cold. “They’ll be exposed in front of every witch and vampire. Their punishment will be swift. First, they’ll be bound by soulfire. Then tortured until their magic is drained. Then…” she paused, “they will be executed. Publicly. Their screams will serve as a warning.”
Arianna’s expression was unreadable, her gaze on the idol. “You’ve already made your decision.”
Lilith looked at her. “This is about balance, Arianna. We’re not just allies to the vampires—we’re guardians of equilibrium. Peace. If we don’t cut out the infection, it will consume everything.”
“I understand.” Arianna bowed again, more slowly this time. “Thank you for trusting me.”
Lilith dismissed her with a nod, already returning to her altar. “We’ll bring light to this darkness, Arianna. No matter how deep it hides.”
—
The night air was cold and sharp as Arianna stepped out of Blackthorne Manor. Her violet eyes shimmered beneath the moonlight. She walked past the iron gates, disappearing into the forest. Once hidden by shadows, she closed her eyes and whispered an incantation.
Her form shimmered—shrinking, feathers sprouting from her limbs. In a swirl of light, Arianna became a crimson-feathered owl. She took off into the air, soaring across valleys, over cliffs and trees, toward a place unseen by mortal or immortal eyes alike.
Nestled deep within the woods stood a tower, ancient and crumbling, wrapped in vines and thorns. An enchantment cloaked it from the world. Only those bound to its magic could see it. Arianna flew through a cracked stone window and landed inside. Her form shimmered again as she returned to her human body.
The chamber she entered was dark, the walls pulsing with faint reddish glyphs. A heavy iron door loomed ahead. She pressed her hand against it. It groaned open.
Inside was a monstrosity.
The beast towered over her—five times the size of any lycan, but disfigured. Its body was twisted, muscles bulging unnaturally. Clumps of fur covered patches of black-veined flesh. Its claws were elongated like spears, and its jaws were lined with too many teeth. Its eyes—completely black, with red glowing irises—locked onto her.
But it didn’t attack. It breathed slowly, watching.
Arianna stepped forward and reached out a hand, stroking its rough muzzle. “They’re onto us…” she whispered.
The monster growled, but it was a sound of understanding.
“I need you to help me. Just a little longer. We’ve come too far to stop now.”
The creature tilted its massive head, responding with a low grunt.
Arianna smiled. “Good boy.”
She walked around the chamber, dragging her fingers along the walls, whispering incantations that reignited protective wards.
“Soon,” she whispered, her voice taking on a venomous edge. “Soon, they’ll all know our pain. Every last one of them. The vampires, the lycans, even that cursed priestess.”
She returned to the creature and looked into its monstrous face.
“They won’t see it coming.”